I can’t remember exactly when I began to loathe chamber-rock. I’m inclined to blame it on The Decemberists. The 2011 release of the Portland band’s chart-topping album The King Is Dead seems to coincide with my rejection of precious art-pop.
Forever Howlong is precisely the sort of intricately-arranged, literary-minded and unapologetically pretentious nonsense I disdain. So why am I infatuated with Black Country, New Road’s new album? Two elements explain my hypocrisy.
Forever Howlong frequently references the art music I currently enjoy. I appreciate the nods to the likes of Alban Berg, Franz Schubert and Kurt Weill. And there’s plenty of the prog that remains my guilty pleasure. The wonkiest aspects of Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, King Crimson and Van der Graaf Generator echo throughout the album.
Secondly, I experience Forever Howlong’s songs as bits of soundtracks to my favorite British novels by Henry Fielding, Thomas Hardy, Iris Murdoch and Ian McEwan. Still, writing these words makes me queasy. I will likely have repudiated this out-of-character endorsement come December.